


Jenna Moriarty's Family Business

by hotchoco195



Series: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes & Family [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aliases, Character Death, Family Dynamics, Gen, Inheritance, Manipulation, legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith has a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jenna Moriarty's Family Business

It was pouring down, the rain hammering hard against the street and trickling off the edge of the gutters past her window. Meredith didn’t mind; she was curled up under her covers with her latest book, a treatise on astrophysics and electrical phenomena. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on Nicholas but he was in his room tinkering with something quietly and she trusted him not to maim himself or burn the flat down.

The front door opened and she turned her head, waiting for the tell-tale sound of her mother’s footsteps. Instead someone with a heavier tread headed for the bedroom corridor. It was probably just Sebastian but she took the taser from her bedside table just in case.

The sniper opened the door. He looked shattered, his face suddenly older and weary. He held his shoulders up as if they weighed a tonne, his shirt ripped in places and a bloody smear over one cheek. He cleared his throat like it was full of gravel and when he managed to speak it was still a dull rasp.

“I have to tell you something.”

She dropped the book and sat up, hugging her knees. She didn’t need to hear him say it. “Ma’s dead, isn’t she?”

He scuffed the side of his boot along the carpet and nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“When?”

“About an hour ago. We were ambushed. The client was double dealing and we got caught in the cross-fire. A stray ricochet hit her.”

Meredith stared at her covers, breathing heavily. This was too much to process, even for her. There were arrangements to be made, money issues. Where was her mother’s body? Presumably Sebastian had hidden it somewhere. What would they do, take her back to Ireland? She’d have to tell Nicholas – they’d have to move in with Da. Her head was a whirling spiral of questions and tasks lining up to be dealt with, while half of her still couldn’t quite grasp the idea that her mother was _dead_. They’d only spoken a few hours ago.

And out of the entire maelstrom, the chaos of ideas, one rose above the rest.

“Did you see who it was?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah it was one of the client’s men.”

“Good,” she said, not meeting his eyes, “I want a list of everyone who was at the meet and made it out, and I want them all dead by tomorrow. Handle the triggerman personally - and make it last.”

“What? Mer-”

“We need to move fast. The less people who know Moriarty is dead, the better.”

“Mer, I know you want your revenge. I’m angry too but you don’t know what you’re ordering-”

“Sebastian,” her head whipped up, eyes burning cold into his the same way her mother’s had, “Do you doubt me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you doubt that I understand what I’m saying?”

“No.”

“Then do it.”

“Mer, I don’t work for you.”

“You do now.”

“Your Ma wouldn’t have wanted this-”

Meredith laughed, the sound too old for a teenager. “Are you kidding, Bastian? This is exactly what Ma would have wanted.”

“The others will notice,” Sebastian said, “We have to tell them about your...about Jenna, and they’ll notice if her operation doesn’t disappear.”

“Let them. What are they going to do, ground me?”

“They’ll arrest ya.”

“They never arrested Ma and she wasn’t even related to them.”

Sebastian sunk to his knees before her, hands gripping the edge of the bed.

“Listen, you know I’m not one for qualms but I’m fond of ya so I have to say this. You can’t step off this road once you’re on it, Mer. You’re about to give up something you can’t get back.”

“My innocence?” she scoffed.

“Your compassion.”

She looked away, hands twisting in her lap.

“Look, you’re upset now. Give it a week. If you still want to do this, you know my number.”

 

On the surface Meredith spent the next few days very busy. She was there for Nicholas, she helped Sherlock organise moving their things to his place and sorting through Ma’s office to find all her assets. Everyone kept saying she didn’t have to help but Meredith felt better with a job to keep her occupied. She wasn’t completely numb: she cried when she packed Jenna’s wardrobe and she cried when Nicholas had nightmares but she never let herself really give in. She was too focused on counting down that week.

On the tenth day after Jenna’s death Sebastian got a call.

“Do you have that list?”

“I do.”

“Get on with it then Bastian.”

“Sure thing boss.”

*****

Sherlock opened the door with a frown. “Mycroft?”

“I am sorry to stop by so unexpectedly-”

“It’s never stopped you before.”

“-but I need to speak to you. Urgently.”

“Alright. Come in.”

His brother stepped into the hall and looked around. “Are we alone?”

“The children are upstairs.”

“Good. Let’s sit.”

“Tea?”

“Not just now.”

Sherlock raised his brows but settled into his armchair and crossed his legs. Mycroft took longer to arrange himself, as if he was stalling.

“What is it?”

“You have heard how Moriarty was killed?”

“Yes, shot in a bad deal. Why?”

“Well over the past few days anyone present at the time has been disappearing.”

“Disappearing?” he shifted in his seat, “No bodies?”

“None.”

“Sounds like Moran.”

Mycroft smiled grimly. “You would think so, and yet my sources indicate that he has not assumed control of Moriarty’s people.”

“Then he’s acting alone.”

“Impossible. Several of the men went missing at roughly the same time.”

“Alright, then he’s hired his own help.”

“I do not think that is the case Sherlock. Did Meredith take anything from Jenna’s office?”

“Yes, her laptop. She was the only person who knew Jenna’s codes and passwords.”

“And she still has it?”

“I promised her I would lock it away. I think she was under the impression you might try to steal it.” He said accusingly.

“I am rather afraid she took some other information off there.”

Sherlock stared at him blankly for a moment. “You think _Meredith_ is running Jenna’s organisation?”

“And why not? She’s brilliant, she has just suffered the traumatic loss of a loved one and she has access to a wide network. It is natural to want revenge and to use an established means to get it.”

“Meredith isn’t like Jenna. She cares about people.”

“Jenna cared about Meredith and Nicholas, and even you to some extent.”

“She’s not a criminal.”

“She is a sixteen year old genius with a family history of questionable morals. On _both_ sides.”

Sherlock tapped his fingers against his lips. “I’ll talk to her.”

“I would feel better if you did.”

 

Sherlock knocked on the bedroom door. “Merry? Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah.”

There was a quiet rustle of papers but when Sherlock opened the door she was lying on her bed with her chemistry homework spread over the covers, her laptop open by the pillows.

“What’s up?” she smiled at him.

“I wanted to talk to you. About your mother.”

A cloud passed over her face but she made room for him on the edge of the bed.

“We haven’t really had a chance to talk.”

“I feel like all I do is talk,” she sighed, “Everyone seems quite concerned with how I’m doing.”

“Well it’s a difficult situation. People don’t know what to say.”

“People are morons.”

“Yes. But you can talk to me, Merry. About how you feel. I know I’m not the best emotional support but I can try.”

She regarded him for a moment and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“The way Jenna died...you must be angry.”

“She was in a dangerous line of work. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

“But you don’t feel a need to hurt the person responsible?”

“Of course I do. The second stage of grief is anger. It’s a normal part of the process.”

“But you would never act on it.” He said dryly.

Meredith raised her brows. “I’m not Ma. I don’t shoot everyone who pisses me off.”

“Then if I checked your phone I wouldn’t find that you’ve been exchanging calls with Moran?”

Her mouth dropped open and she sat up on her knees. “Has Uncle Mycroft been _spying_ on me?”

“He was concerned. As am I.”

“I’ve known Sebastian since I was born! Of course we’ve been communicating. He misses us.”

“Merry, you can’t step into Jenna’s shoes. You’re not like her.”

“Who said I want to be?” she snapped.

“You’re in the middle of a very huge moment in your life. You might not be able to make objective decisions right now-”

“I’m fine, Da. Maybe you’re struggling but I will get through this. I’m not going to go off on some adolescent rebellion and start smoking or drinking or doing drugs, alright?”

“I never thought you would.”

She scowled. “Oh but becoming a criminal mastermind, that you thought was a danger.”

“I know the temptation to make the people who hurt you suffer.”

“Well I’m not going to do anything reckless, so don’t worry yourself.”

“Merry-”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

Sherlock sighed but stood. “Very well. Remember what I said.”

She didn’t answer, merely crossing her arms and staring at the window until he’d closed the door.

*****

Living with a consulting detective made sneaking out of the house a lot harder. Meredith didn’t exactly have a bunch of school friends she could claim to be with and there was no way she could use Uncle John or Uncle Mycroft as an excuse. She could perhaps have said she was with Lestrade’s girls but the detective inspector wasn’t slow either; he’d notice if they got dolled up and went out, and he’d definitely tell Sherlock. Which left the one person Meredith could always count on to fold like a house of cards.

“Hi Molly.” She smiled brightly as the pathologist opened the door.

“Hey Merry. Come in, come in.”

She dropped her overnight bag by the couch and tucked her hair behind one ear as innocently as she could manage.

“Thanks for this. I needed a night off from Nick and Da.”

“Too many boys?” Molly grinned.

“Yeah. I’m outnumbered now.”

The doctor’s smile wavered but she clasped her hands.

“So I ordered some Chinese and I thought we could watch a movie or two.”

“Can I braid your hair?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Cool.”

“Why don’t you pick something to watch?”

It was almost too easy. Meredith popped in a girly rom-com and curled up on the couch. Molly brought over the Chinese and they ate in silence. They were most of the way through when the doctor sat up.

“I’m going to make some tea. Do you want one?”

“I’ll do it. Sugar?”

“Yes thanks.”

Meredith put the water on and took down two cups. She glanced at the door to make sure Molly was still watching the movie before fishing in her bra for the tiny vial. It was one of her own creations, designed to act as a sedative but slow-acting out so the sleep seemed naturally. It would take maybe forty minutes for the full effect but once she was out Molly would sleep a full eight hours. Meredith could have made up some line about wanting to go on a date without Sherlock knowing, and the pathologist probably would have agreed to it – but she couldn’t be trusted not to give it away accidentally later. It was safer to just drug her and pretend she’d fallen asleep during the movie.

Meredith tipped the powder into Molly’s cup and poured for them both, handing it to her as she sat down again. Molly took a sip.

“Mmm, thanks.”

“No problem.”

 

They’d finished the first movie and were onto the second when Molly yawned. She put her cup down on the coffee table, snuggling further under the blankets. Meredith smiled to herself as the doctor’s head started to nod, until finally her eyes rolled shut.

“Sorry Molly.” She whispered, taking both cups to the kitchen and washing them out – just in case.

She dragged her overnight bag into the bathroom and unzipped it, changing out of her fluffy pyjamas into a short blue sequinned dress and heels. She flicked out her hair as best she could with Molly’s poor old styling tongs and did her make-up with a practiced hand. Meredith pulled on a coat and stowed her things away, quickly tidying up the lounge room and ruffling Molly’s sheets so it looked like she’d gone to bed. She took out her phone as she headed downstairs.

_Ready – M_

_Car’s outside._

She only had to wait fifteen seconds before a black sedan pulled up outside Molly’s building. Meredith climbed in the back.

“I don’t like this.” Sebastian grumbled from the front.

“I don’t pay you to scold me, Bastian.”

“If your father finds out-”

“He won’t. Now stop griping.”

He sighed heavily and she leaned forward between the seats.

“Sebby, I need to blow off some steam. I’ve basically been under house arrest my whole life and now I wanna have some fun. So if you’re so concerned, do your job and keep an eye on me.”

Sebastian drove to a spot popular with the younger rich kid crowd and parked around the corner. Meredith checked her face one last time in the rear view mirror.

“Now remember you’re a bodyguard, not a chaperone.”

“I’ll try my best not to punch anyone.” He drawled.

They got out and headed for the door. There was a line but most people were skipping it, and with a flash of ready money the two of them slid by too. Meredith couldn’t contain a smile at the dark room and flashing lights, the bass pounding through the floor.

“Oh yes. This is delicious.”

She scanned the room to get a feel for it. There was a raised dance floor with a DJ booth and some short podiums, and on the other side of the room a door that said VIP.

“What do you think, Sebby? Are we very important?”

“We could be.”

She slunk through the crowd, shouldering aside anyone who got too close. Sebastian discouraged any complaints, shadowing her to the door where a tall man was blocking the entrance. He was built much wider than Sebastian but it was mostly for show. Meredith drew herself up and smiled invitingly.

“Well hi.”

“Name?” he held up his clipboard.

She stepped closer until she could wrap a hand in his lapel, dragging his head down to whisper in his ear.

“Moriarty.”

The man stared at her and she winked, licking her lips. He glanced at his list and then up at Sebastian, the sniper staring back with a hard glare.

“Uh, right this way miss.”

 

As soon as they were inside Sebastian grabbed her elbow. “What the fuck was that?”

“This isn’t all fun, Sebby. I have some business to attend to.”

“You should have told me.”

“You didn’t need to know.”

The VIP room wrapped around the rest of the club, creating plenty of alcoves for private chats and other activities. The wall had a long one-way glass strip that looked out over the dance floor. There was a bar in the corner and she headed straight over, waving Sebastian off to the side.

“What can I getcha?” the bartender asked.

“Gin and tonic.”

She glanced over her shoulder as he made it. The club owner was sprawled over a couch with a group of younger men and women, all of them laughing and downing champagne. He was about forty five and vain with it, his eyebrows definitely plucked and his tan artificial. His shirt was a pale pink and he wore a thumb ring. Meredith had never felt so much contempt for any one person before, but she made sure to keep watching until she caught his eye. As she watched the bouncer from the door walked up and whispered something, and the owner looked over at her.

She didn’t look away like a timid girl might, watching him with an unspoken challenge in her smirk. The man patted his neighbour’s knee and stood, and Meredith turned back to the bar with a sly grin.

“Thank you.” She took her drink, sipping very slowly.

“I don’t believe I know you.” The owner came up close enough for their arms to touch.

“We spoke on the phone. You said you could handle my...dilemma?”

“From the looks of you, you could handle it yourself.” He leered.

“I’m afraid I just don’t have the resources. You come highly recommended, Mr Moriarty.”

“That’s my work name. Call me David.”

“David.” She grinned, silently cursing him for being such an idiot.

“Now this problem of yours, we can do that.”

“Really?” she batted her lashes.

“Oh yeah, my guys are the best. It won’t be cheap though.”

“How much were you thinking?”

He eyed her over. “50k.”

Meredith ran a hand over his torso. “I’m sure we can...work something out.”

He grinned smugly and leaned on the bar. “I’m sure we can.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper, sliding it over the counter.

“Here are the details.”

“Sure,” He pocketed them, “Say, have another drink. On the house.”

“If you insist.”

“I do. Gin and tonic, yeah?”

 

Meredith sauntered over to Sebastian’s seat and sat in his lap.

“God Mer, you’re a bit bigger than you used to be.”

“Shut up,” she pressed her cheek against his so no one could see her lips, “Here.”

He took the phone she offered and turned it over in his hands. “What’s this?”

“ _David’s_ phone. Go through it and see if he’s been stupid enough to leave any incriminating messages. Then kill him and text a photo to anyone he was dealing with as Moriarty. I’m thinking something graphic – maybe ‘imposter’ carved into his forehead?”

“You want it done tonight?” he eyed the man across the room.

“No no. We’re here to have fun, Sebby. Tomorrow will be fine.”

He slipped the phone into his jacket. “We shouldn’t stay here. He’ll notice it’s missing.”

“Agreed. Know any other hot spots?”

They walked down the street to a club with pulsing red lights above the door and an even bigger line. Sebastian made to skip ahead but Meredith dragged him into the queue.

“Let’s go for subtle, hmm?”

He sighed. “I’m too old for subtle.”

But he lined up beside her anyway, trying to look like he wasn’t with her. Meredith didn’t seem to mind the wait, flicking through her phone. Moran couldn’t help casting an eye over the street for cameras. If Mycroft spotted him taking out his niece...it might get ugly.

By the time they got inside it was midnight and he was definitely too old for this crap. But he followed discreetly as Meredith made her way to the bar and ordered, showing more cleavage than he’d like. When did he become such a prude? Jenna used to do worse as some of her characters. But he hadn’t helped raise Jenna, and he would never have been suicidal enough to comment. Meredith wasn’t half as scary but somehow she managed to push him around much, much easier. Perhaps he was going soft.

There was a boy next to her now, chatting and smiling. Sebastian (on Jenna’s orders) had chased off anyone who ever showed too much of an interest in Mer, and it took him a second to clamp down on the instinct to walk over there and scare the guy away. He made himself comfortable where he could keep an eye on them and sat down to wait.

 

Molly was still asleep on the couch when Meredith let herself back in. She was covered in sweat from dancing and slightly buzzed from the alcohol, her feet aching. She kissed the pathologist’s forehead before going in to clean herself up and get into bed.

The next morning Molly knocked on the door.

“Hi, sorry. Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah. I thought it was better to leave you there.”

“Gosh, sorry I ruined our girls’ night.”

Meredith smiled. “No, it was fun.”

“Well I’ll make it up to you. Pancakes?”

“Yes please.”

*****

Mycroft scanned the reports on his desk again. There was just no other explanation, no matter how hard he looked. Every crime had been committed since Jenna’s death but carried out by Moriarty’s people, and yet they didn’t fit the usual M.Os. There was something...almost reminiscent of Sherlock in them. Jenna had been devastatingly intelligent and manipulative, working on a grand scale for the big thrills. These were smaller and yet more complex. It was like someone playing out a puzzle against themselves, trying to be cleverer and cleverer each time. He only knew one person in England who thought like that.

The statesman sighed. He didn’t want to deal with this. It had always been a danger but in the past he’d thought the problem would be Jenna actively handing down her work to the children rather than them adopting it all on their own. He supposed it wasn’t surprising given the circumstances but it was worrying. He’d thought they’d done a better job raising Merry than that. Maybe it was something they couldn’t have avoided – maybe it was in her genes. But he’d thought they would have a stronger influence.

Sherlock wasn’t going to do anything about it. She was his daughter, and even if he hated criminals he couldn’t stop her. Mycroft could, but it would mean doing something drastic. He wasn’t sure he was up for that sort of thing. He wasn’t young anymore.

The elder Holmes couldn’t let his niece step into her mother’s shoes. Jenna Moriarty had been a thorn in his side for almost twenty years. She’d been charming and amiable when she wanted but she was still a psychopath and a murderer. Every day she’d been responsible for dozens, possibly hundreds of murders, thefts and drug deals. He didn’t want that life for Meredith.

 

Mycroft walked into the cafe and spotted her immediately. She was sitting by the kitchen with her back to the wall and an enormous pair of sunglasses, reading something on her phone as she twirled a teaspoon in the other hand. He made his way over and sat, making her look up in surprise.

“Uncle Mikey?”

“Hello Meredith. We need to talk.”

“About?” she slid the glasses up, tucking her phone away quickly.

“I am well aware you have replaced Jenna as Moriarty.”

“I don’t know what gave you that impression-”

“I think we are both smart enough to skip the denial and accusations and move on to the actual conversation.”

She sat back in the chair and pursed her lips. “Have you told Da?”

“Not since my early suspicions.”

“What are you going to do, drag me off for questioning?”

“Nothing so uncouth. I just want to say a few things.”

“Fine.”

 “You are not your mother, Merry. There were circumstances in her life that you have been fortunate enough to avoid. Being Moriarty may have worked for her but it will not make you happy, not in the long run.”

“Maybe it means something different for me than it did for her.”

“I can understand the weight of legacy and the feeling you need to shoulder her responsibilities. I can even understand boredom – perhaps better than you realise – and the allure of the game. But you are not a killer, Merry.”

“Why, because I’m a good little girl?” she sneered.

“No, because you are much too well-grounded to ignore that killing has consequences. If you didn’t care you wouldn’t be going to such lengths to hide this from us. You are not remorseless.”

She said nothing, clinking the spoon against her saucer distractedly.

“If you would truly prefer to be Moriarty, I will let you walk out of here and do it. But you’d have to give up everything, understand? Your father, your brother, John and Mary, Molly and Greg. You would be alone.”

His blue eyes were almost kind, soft at the edges, a bit tired maybe. Meredith stuck out her jaw.

“What if it’s too late? What if I’ve already killed?”

“The knee-jerk reaction of grief. I do not think we need to look hard to see you were going through a very stressful time.”

“What do I have if I’m not Moriarty? What thrill could rival _that_?”

“You’re a clever girl with fantastic connections and no shortage of money. You could do whatever you wanted. Go anywhere, study, invent, create. You could be a world-class violinist or a chess master or a nuclear physicist. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

She stared at the grungy Formica of the table top for another minute before looking up.

“Fine. Is it alright if I go and stay with _Grand-mere_ for a while?”

“I’m sure she would love to have you.”

“And you won’t tell Da about this?”

“I shall keep it between us.”

*****

Meredith sent another email to Uncle Mycroft with another list of names and contact info. It had caused her some frustration at first, handing over her mother’s life piece by piece, but the steady stream kept him happy and convinced him she was back on the right track.

 _Grand-mere’s_ house was peaceful, on a grassy hill overlooking the Rhone. The gardens were a fairy playground of bluebells and foxgloves and the cottage was airy and light. The old woman was less active than she used to be but her mind was still sharp, and they spent most evenings talking or debating or playing games. It was also far away from Uncle Mycroft’s supervision.

Her phone rang and she answered, swinging her legs up onto the daybed.

“Sebastian?”

“I found that new man you wanted.”

“Is he as good as you?”

“Maybe better.”

“I doubt that,” she smiles, “Can we trust him?”

“I’ll keep an eye out for a few months, just in case.”

“Thank you. You know I’d keep you on if I could but-”

“I get it. Mycroft’s watching.”

“Always watching,” she laughed hollowly, “We’ll still see you though. Or at least call. You can come for Christmas.”

“I will. I’ll send you the fella’s number but it would be better if you could meet with him, get your own impression.”

“Alright. I’ll set it up.”

“Take care, Mer.”

“I always do.”

 

The other advantage of _Grand-mere_ was she went to bed early. Meredith managed to find the keys to the old car in the garage and drove herself down the road to town. From there it was a cinch to get the train into the city.

She walked into the bar and peeled off her gloves, looking for her man. There were plenty there, older types with full beards and chunky sweaters, lads hanging out with their mates. There was one that seemed somehow out of place and totally at home though, as if he was made for this and yet still stood out. He had very black hair that fell slightly over his face and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show black and grey tattoos down both arms. He was about twenty five, smoking leisurely but his hands were tense on the table. This was a man always expecting the worse. She walked over and sat in the chair opposite without asking.

“ _Bonsoir_.”

“Are you lost?” he said mockingly, “You seem a bit young for this place.”

She smiled, all teeth like a shark. “Well this is going to be a short interview.”

“You are the one Moran sent?” his brows shot up.

“And here I was going to say the same about you.”

He straightened and stubbed out his cigarette. “I apologise. I thought you were just a girl.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Jean-Luc Guerard.” He offered his hand.

She shook it firmly and sat back, letting her eyes rake over him. He smirked.

“Do you see anything you like?”

She tilted her head. “Perhaps.”

“Like what?”

“You served in the Foreign Legion until you got bored. You have a widowed mother and an older sister who isn’t married and worries about it constantly, so you refuse to live at home. Too much chatter. You like things quiet, despite the overly cocky persona you present. You are a talented sniper but your real talent is knives - you feel like it’s a dying art form. You were smart at school but you couldn’t afford uni. Your family’s never had money, prompting your enlistment. You still struggled when you got out so you turned to a few odd jobs offered by a friend, an old schoolmate? Maybe a comrade from training. You’re good at it, and now you want a more permanent employer.”

She sat back, the two of them suddenly enveloped in silence as Jean-Luc stared at her.

“Did Moran tell you all that?”

“He told me you came recommended. That was the extent of our conversation.”

He smiled incredulously. “Are you going to introduce yourself?”

“I dislike names. They only serve to make you a target.”

“They let people know who they’re dealing with.” He stroked a thumb over his jaw.

Meredith smiled. “Watching them figure it out is half the fun.”


End file.
